Yesterday
by Chancellor Amethyst
Summary: Methos is a greenhorn in the Watchers--at least, this time around. An innocious meeting and some glasses of beer serve a little entertainment.


**Yesterday**

**_By The Chancellor Amethyst_**

_Montreux, Switzerland; 1986_

Methos sat quietly alone, sipping his wine and lying low. He knew, oh, did he know, that this peace would not last long.

No, not here. They didn't notice him; that was his only saving grace. Thank God they weren't Immortal and able to sense him. Then again, if they were Immortal, he'd be at a quandry, not a dinner party.

Ah, yes, the Watchers. Lovely bunch of committed mortals they were, Methos chuckled to himself. Lovely bunch indeed. They'd even thrown him the party. Well, the party wasn't just for him, it was in honour of the Watcher Academy's staff, faculty and top students. And, then again, it wasn't much of a party. A horde of people in suits sipping wine and laughing at each other's truly pitiful jokes wasn't a party. Only the top ten highest graded graduates had been invited. Lucky that Methos had graduated first in his class of ninety-eight. Or not so lucky....

They'd spotted his new location, his new wine and brandy oasis. Dammit it all, he was having fun in his quiet. Ah, well. It had been nice while it lasted. Time to face the music, the people and all the friends and others he didn't even know congratulate him on a job well done.

Ah, well. One more glass of wine couldn't hurt.

"Adam, I'd like you to meet Joe Dawson," said Don. "You're bound to run in to him more than once when you start at the store."

Methos offered the Watcher a pleasant smile. He'd known Don for about half a year now, doing some mentoring and training in his hours that weren't consummed by research and essay writing. So far his mentor was informative and intriging, and Methos found a new use for him. Don only introduced him to useful and interesting people. Dullard crowd control. With everyone wishing to make the aquaintance of the Watcher Academy's newest Wonder Boy, Methos found him a great asset.

"Good to meet you," Methos said, accepting Dawson's handshake. It was firm and confident. One could read a lot from a handshake, Methos knew, and Methos well appreciated the quiet confidence he felt from Joe Dawson.

"I'll think I'll be seeing you around," he said. "I've heard quite a bit about you."

"I hope I'm everything they say I am," Methos added good-humouredly.

"He's more," Don interjected.

"Living up well to the esteemed title of Wonder Boy?" Joe asked, laughing.

Methos rolled his eyes. "You know, I would kill if I found out who made that one up." Wonder Boy, really. Couldn't someone have thought of a better nickname for the top grad?

"It's a legacy," replied a man who appeared beside Dawson. He looked familiar, but Methos couldn't place him.

"Adam Pierson, I'd like you to meet Wonder Boy '73." Dawson indicated the man beside him. "This is James Horton, and I don't think he'd like it if you started ragging on the title."

Horton shook Methos' hand. "Well, what can I say, Joe, our friend Adam has taste, it seems. I never did like that unfortunate... title."

Methos smirked. "It's an honour to graduate first, but grades don't measure everything. Someone better might just have had a few off days, unfair teachers, a few misunderstandings.... But then again, if you're the first, you have the drawback of every field researcher begging to mentor you."

"Stay in research, my boy," Don replied.

"It's usually the brown-nosers who actually like research," Dawson added, joking.

"I had wanted to be a researcher, initally," Horton said. "But I took the first position I was offered--"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk--" Don interrupted.

"--And I started mentoring right away. I was Watching even before I'd graduated. Not many people can say that."

"There's something about the field that just gets to you," Dawson added. "I've had the same assignment for eight years. It's not the glitz and glamour and excitement it's made out to be, but I've seen lots of interesting things."

"We all have our pleasure," Horton commented. "At any rate, Joseph, we should probably let young Adam here to his mingling." Horton placed a hand lightly on Methos' shoulder. "Do have fun patronizing everyone until you're ready to take heads yourself." Horton's voice had an odd, morbid humour to it. Methos liked that in a person. "It's perfectly smashing."

"Smashing? No one says that anymore," Dawson said to Horton as they walked off together.

"They're an odd pair, son," Don explained. "But they grow on you."

"Pair?" asked Methos, confused.

"Mmm?" Don looked at Methos, then burst out laughing. "No, no, no, silly boy. Not like that." Don laughed heartily some more, wiping a tear from his eye. "God, but that's rich. No, no, James is married to Joe's sister, Catherine. They're often apart, but when they're in the same room, they're practically inseparable. They were in the war together, and they've had a lot of assignments together. They're generally regarded as the Odd Couple." Don let a last little giggle escape him. "Pair, oh, that's ridiculous, Adam. I can count on you for a laugh, can't I?"

Methos nodded. "I try."

Don had introduced Methos to many of the party's attenders, and soon Methos tired of meeting people. Being around people meant keeping up his façade, and he could handle that. First impressions, however, required complete civility. He found somewhere to be by himself. Ah! More brandy awaited him. Another oasis in the desert of staunchy Watcher higher-ups and similarly snotty students. Nice just to be alone.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you."

Methos looked up to see Horton pull out the chair directly across and seat himself.

"Not at all," Methos responded, passing him a glass and the brandy bottle, which he took.

"Would it be too presumptious if I called you Adam?"

Methos shook his head, taking back the bottlie to pour himself another glass.

"You certainly do drink a lot," Horton commented in humour.

Methos shrugged, downing half his new glass. Mmm. Brandy. The good kind.

"I remember my days in the Academy. Alcohol, research, deadlines, parties..."

"...Alcohol...."

Horton laughed. "Stay in research. That's where the alcoholics belong."

"I'm not an alcoholic."

"That's not what I've heard," Horton replied, with a raised eyebrow.

"Alcoholics go to meetings," Methos stated. "And I don't get drunk. So, I'm just... a student."

"And quite the student. No one's had your average in a long time. Few graduated with higher."

"Did you?"

"By very little," Horton replied.

"Who's your assignment now?" Horton was pleasant, Adam found, might as well talk to someone. He sounded interesting; Methos was a fan of interesting.

"Blake Willmington," Horton answered. "Was just transfered to him. The Watcher before myself couldn't handle him. The Powers That Be have a little problem assigning Watchers to cases they can handle. They're starting to put too much faith in the newer ones. It's not that they can't Watch, but so many of them are unprepared for what they'll see."

"Weren't you Watching before you graduated? That qualifies as a new Watcher."

"Yes, it does. But there are a few circumstances surrounding that. I didn't say new graduates shouldn't be allowed to be on the field-- how will they learn? They should, of course, be given easier assignments first. My first assigment was a passport artist. Even head hunters didn't dare touch him. Without him, the Immortal way of life would be... impossible. He didn't fight-- he didn't have to. Thirdly, dear Adam, I had come straight out of the war. Few students today have that. They don't..." Horton's voice trailed off. "They don't understand."

"Death is not an easy thing, to watch, to know, to do."

"You're different, though. I sense that about you. You don't panic easily. You have that natural clam to you. Pity to waste that in research."

"I have better things to do than record what some two thousand year old man had for breakfast," Methos retorted.

"Like try to find a five thousand year old man in hopes of recording what he had for breakfast?"

"Don and I estimated that he's more likely five and a quater thousand years old, if not more. Methos has been a legend for so long, the "five thousand-year-old man" for so long, that people don't update their calenders. It's like how some one tells you their age and five years or so later you still think of them as that age."

"Be that as it may, Adam, you might think of re-assignment. You're in a good position. You don't have to wait in line for a mediocre placement Watching some accountant or librarian. You can just ask for anything and there's very little chance you'll be removed." Horton sipped the last of his brandy. "It's your decision, of course. If you change your mind, I'll be happy to mentor you personally."

Methos smiled. Horton, from what he knew, was a very respected individual in the Watchers. He seemed to take a natural shine to him. Keeping on his good side would be a good idea, and, seemingly, an entertaining one. "I'll keep it in mind, but I've always been a bookworm."

"Bookworms don't finish first in marathons."

Methos smiled. "Have to keep fit," he replied. "How else will I lift all those heavy boxes of books and climb the impossible ladders of ancient libraries?"

"Do you play poker?"

"Have."

"Whenever Joesph and I and a good deal of Watchers are in the same place, we make a point of holding some kind of game. Joesph, of course, usually insists on poker. It's his bar, and we'd all feel sorry for him if we played football or bowling or something. At any rate, it keeps us all sane, keeps us in connection with people we can talk to. This isn't a line of work that's easily taken home."

Well, Methos thought, that all depends on who you are.

"There's another matter," Horton began.

"We're out of brandy," Methos stated.

Horton took the bottle and placed it behind him. "Never mind the brandy. What is it with you and alcohol?"

"It's free and it's the good stuff. Don't get much of that on a researcher's salary."

Horton rolled his eyes and stood, leaving the table then returning with a similar bottle. It was different, Methos noted. It was full. Methos liked different-- different was good.

"How can you drink so much of that and not so much as have your hand tremble?"

"Practice," Methos responded.

Horton's face held a bewildered air for a moment before his look became more serious. "Adam, I want to talk to you. How do you feel about Immortals?"

Methos shrugged. For a slight instant a fear passed through him, but he squashed it immediately. "They're the full spectrum. Some are dull, some are interesting, some are intriging, some are just... normal, some are--"

"No, Adam, how do you _feel_ about them? What are your thoughts about them?"

Methos drank half another glass before responding. "I... I haven't seen enough to form an opinion."

Horton nodded. "Of course not. But, Adam, I know: before long, you will see more than enough. You will understand, Adam Pierson. That's when I'll talk to you again."

Strangely cryptic. Methos liked that in a person, too. Horton was both unnerving and intriging. Methos thought about it, and decided that his first opinion of the man was a good one. Pleasant conversationalist, a little puzzling and unbalanced, and smart. Besides, Methos thought, he had brought him more brandy.

Horton stood. "Well, I'll be talking to you again, I'm sure. It's been a pleasure."

"It has, Mr. Horton."

"Please, call me James."

Methos nodded, watching the man go off. He looked around, seeing the coast clear of any one else who might want to talk with him. Perfect. His new little corner alcove was working. No one could find him. Perfect. In the relative silence, Methos poured himself another glass of brandy.

* * *

Elwhis

* * *


End file.
